Fredbear Stockholm (YanderePurpleGuy X Reader)

Birthday

~~IMPORTANT CONTENTS BELOW~~

Note: 18+ For every reason!! This story gets fairly graphic with strong sexual themes, violence, drug-use, underaged drinking, and gore. Very dark. Fair warning.

If any of this sounds uncomfortable to you, don't read.

This story contains flashbacks. Just so there's no confusion.

👻This story revolves around the original three games; William Afton and other well-known human fnaf characters DO NOT EXIST IN THIS BOOK.👻

FNAF characters rightfully belong to Scott Cawthon, not me. 

Lastly, please be respectful. I worked very hard on all of this.

Now that this is finally out of the way, please ENJOY! 

~~~

(Due to confusion, I'll say this one last time; this story is M/M which means MaleXMale)

It was immensely bright out. The sun drilled through the car windows and hit your skin until you thought it was going to sizzle. With how life has been progressing, all your stress and confusion was taking its toll. 

Today wasn't a big help. 

Freddy Fazbear's Pizzaria—You were on your way to a popular children's restaurant with your family in honor to celebrate your annoying eight year-old sister's birthday. Well now she'd be nine, and you didn't like being reminded about it like she was something special.

Your own birthday was coming up, but you'd have to wait another month until the spotlight was yours.

The only upside was that your parents had pulled you out of school since Fazbear's wasn't so crowded during this time for obvious reasons. But you began regretting not staying in class.

You've been plagued with odd events for the past number of years, and you pondered on if anything severe actually happened that you (for some reason) couldn't remember. Yesterday you'd been getting ready to leave class when the teacher intervened:

"I'm just worried 'bout you. You seem...paranoid. Down. Very outta it. Stop me if I get it."

They surely weren't somebody you expected to take notice. 

"No. I mean...I'm okay. Seriously." you had told them. You never liked the idea of teachers intruding on your personal life. 

"Well you know you can always tell me if there's something wrong, right? If you need anyone to listen and help."

"Yeah, I know."

Last thing heard from them was being wished a good day.

With that out of mind you focused on something else to drain out your sister's noises. You criticized your own wardrobe, self-loath washing over. There was never that luxury of picking out your own fashion. It wasn't anything huge; you simply wanted jeans that weren't so baggy. If other wishes came true, you'd sport your favorite band shirts. 

That wouldn't be happening either.

Only "normal" clothes were allowed. Your folks were what many may have called bible thumpers. What they did allow was for you to grow out your hair. A little. It got sheered off as soon as the bangs reached your eyes. There were ideas of dying it. Wishful thinking. It must stay its regular, boring [Hair Color].